


The Hobbit from Gallifrey (REWRITTEN)

by CXMP_14



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, BAMF Bilbo Baggins, Battle of Five Armies - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, Bittersweet Ending, M/M, Rewrite, Self-Indulgent, Time Lord Bilbo Baggins, Time Travel, Time War (Doctor Who), Time War Angst (Doctor Who), you’ll know why
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2020-03-10 04:34:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18931363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CXMP_14/pseuds/CXMP_14
Summary: “Unless you suspect other worldly beings are involved, time itself is at risk, or both, then it’s none of my business.” Bilbo explained with nonchalance that was uncharacteristic of him, as he put his cup down.Or: the fic nobody asked for





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So I’ve finally rewrote my fic with a better plot in mind and I finally know what I’m doing. But I’ll be honest, if it weren’t for all those people who read, left kudos, commented, bookmarked it, and basically showed interest in this kind of premise, I would not have considered putting more effort into writing it better. So thank you to all of you! And I hope this version is indeed better because it’s what ya’ll deserved!
> 
> Also, if you noticed that I tagged this fic as Bagginshield, well it’s because I think I feel confident enough to write one of my favorite ships in existence.
> 
> And to those who have not read the first version of this story and have no idea what’s gonna happen, welcome! This idea came to me because I LOVE fics about Bilbo being BAMF and is not actually a hobbit. It’s a crossover with Doctor Who but unfortunately, no actual DW characters will be in this but it’s a MUST that you know stuff about the show otherwise, this will not make sense to you. As mentioned in the tags, it’s a self-indulgent fanfic that in my first version, a lot of people surprisingly seem to love. So I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or Doctor Who. They belong to J.R.R Tolkien and the BBC.

To outsiders and the young ones of the Shire, Bilbo Baggins is like any other hobbit. Like other hobbits, he takes great pride in his hospitality. With a polite smile and a bow, he would lead you down the hall of his warm hobbit-hole. Bag End was the envy of some hobbits (some Sackville-Bagginses, to be exact). Its rooms were spacious with the walls and ceilings built with the finest wood by expert craftsmanship. Thick but soft carpeting covers the hard, solid floor. The furniture were always wiped clean of any speck of dust. And there is a warm hearth where one could enjoy a nice cup of tea as they watch the fire. This, along with Bilbo’s charming welcome and delicious cooking, have earned him the title of a respectable gentlehobbit.

To match his warm and comfortable smial is his rich and bountiful garden. Though it is mainly tended to by his gardener and friend, Hamfest Gamgee, there are times Bilbo comes out under the hot sun wearing a straw hat and some gardening gloves to take care of the plants himself. His garden is filled with numerous blooming flowers and orchids of red, yellow, blue, and purple. All the plants grow tall with healthy, lustrous leaves and not a single one shows any signs of wilting. He grows a few fruits and vegetables, as well. And they always came out fresh and juicy, perfect for cooking. It was a model garden that other hobbits strive to have.

Bilbo eats the standard seven meals a day that had him achieve the preferred roundness that many male hobbits possess. He also fancies himself a good pipe of Old Toby to smoke in peace. But to those who lived for a good while in the Shire, would observe that despite Bilbo’s reputation and being a part of the esteemed Baggins family, he has some….oddities. For one, the fauntlings love him for his stories. Everytime he goes out for a morning stroll or shop at the marketplace, Bilbo would always encounter a group of them who would not leave him alone until he tells them a story. There’s nothing particularly odd about this, only that his tales are unheard of. Not only are they not found in any book or were told around the fire, but the very nature of these tales is...peculiar. Most stories would be about heroes in shining armor who defeats a dragon or some other terrible creature, how a mighty kingdom fell, or a princess finding her true love.

But Bilbo’s stories were about fantastical worlds filled with equally fantastical creatures. Stories about heroes who aren’t knights in shining armor but are people seeking redemption from the past. Heroes who don’t end up defeating a dragon but defeating their own demons. Stories about how true love is not always at first sight. Stories that truly stretch the abilities of imagination and enkindle the spark of curiosity within children that make them wonder beyond the borders of the Shire and even beyond Middle-Earth itself. 

Some parents don’t approve of these tales, however. Worried that their children would grow up like the Tooks who aren’t content with the simple life in the Shire. That they would want to venture into the outside world where unknown dangers lurk in every corner that they, as hobbits by nature, are not prepared to face. But there are others who support Bilbo’s stories and even urge him to write them. But he always refused, saying that he doesn’t need to. It is not only tales that he is passionate about, but also history. Which is why Bilbo lectures about it to the fauntlings at the school. 

The way he talks about past events was as if he has been there himself and is reliving some old memories. He also offers to teach different languages like Sindarin, Rohirric, and other Elvish and Mannish dialects (he doesn’t teach Khuzdul to avoid any potential troubles). There are times when Bilbo finishes a lecture early and decides to have an intriguing talk about Time. “Time is not a flowing river,” he would say with a scoff. “It only feels like you’re moving down a steady current because you experience one day before the other. But in reality, no one is moving anywhere. Think of Time as like a bunch of snippets of a story. A bunch of events, incidents, and interactions that have no particular order.

“But when you go through each of them, one by one, that’s when the story all comes to life, starting with the day you were born ‘til the day you die. Time is relative to each person, we all lead different lives. But at some point we all have affected one another, directly or indirectly, whether for good or for worse.” Bilbo explained to his audience of enraptured children. “Where did you learn all that, Mister Bilbo?” One curious fauntling would ask. “Let’s just say, I learned from experience,” he would reply with a mysterious twinkle in his eye and an enigmatic smile. Speaking of time, some hobbits would notice that on every single occasion or activity Bilbo is invited to, he’s _never_ late nor early. He’s always just on time. As if he knows the exact moment when it is going to happen.

Another noted oddity, is inside his smial, Bag End. If one happened to pass through one of its halls that lead to the back of the hobbit-hole, they may have noticed a peculiar dark green door on the side that looks a little out of place. Bilbo would always warn his visitors to never try to enter, as it is simply a room filled with his private possessions. Then he would lead them back to the dining room for some tea, quietly muttering to himself about some “filter that keeps glitching.” But if his visitors happen to have brought their children with them, these mischievous younglings would find a way to escape their parents to go exploring to the mysterious door. Unfortunately for them, the door is always locked but if they pressed their ear against it, they would hear a constant humming that has no melody and an occasional beeping sound, coming from inside.

It also seems to be a mystery of what exactly is Bilbo’s relation to the Bagginses, besides his name and mannerisms. No one knows who his parents were or his siblings. Most assume that he is a distant cousin to many of them, and just leaves it at that. Others, particularly the elderly, say that Bilbo was not a true relative in the first place. Yes, he served as a sort of father figure to many of the Bagginses when they were young but during those days, he was like a passing phantom. There are days when you would see him around town, talk to him, and even have some tea and a smoke with him. But there are days when he would disappear from the Shire without a trace. That everywhere you ask, no one knows where he went, as if he was poofed out of existence. Then the moment when you least expected it, he reappears again and acting as if he never left.

But ever since the devastating Fell Winter that swept the Shire, and the deaths of the Took-Baggins couple, Belladonna and Bungo, Bilbo stayed for good. Bag End went to him, along with their possessions. You would see him around everyday and there was never a moment when he suddenly vanishes. He became well-known throughout the Shire as a true respectable Baggins who never had any adventures or did anything unexpected. And Bilbo intends to keep it that way. Certainly, no one else in the Shire needed to know of his true heritage. How long he has lived. How much secrets and knowledge he actually knows. How many hearts he actually possesses. Or how he’s not of Middle-Earth but from another world.


	2. It’s none of my business

It was a sunny morning in the Shire with a soft breeze blowing through the trees. A perfect morning for Bilbo to test out what he hopes to be a new growth spurt for his plants. He was outside in his garden, wearing his usual straw hat and gardening gloves but this time, he also wore a white surgical mask. He was crouched down in front of a little green sapling that was barely an inch tall. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration and his whole body was rigid like a statue, one is not sure if he’s even breathing. The only movement was his eyes trained on his steady hands as he tilted an open vial filled with green and black liquid, very slowly so as to be sure that only one drop will fall. Anymore than that and the plant will grow as tall as a tree in a matter of minutes, which will become quite a scandal in the Shire.

_’Almost there.’_ The liquid trickled down to the mouth and a teardrop was starting to form. A bead of sweat rolled down Bilbo’s forehead and there was no other sound but the beating of his two hearts as it was about to drop onto the sapling. Until someone cleared their throat. The halfling jumped and quickly tilted the vial upright in panic. After making sure that the liquid did not fall on the plant or anywhere else, he turned to the person standing outside his garden in annoyance. He pulled down his mask and shouted, “Gandalf! Couldn’t you have waited for me to finish?! This is a delicate procedure!” The wizard only seemed to smile in amusement. “Apologies my dear boy, do carry on.” Bilbo glared before pulling his mask back up and starting again.

Exactly one drop fell and the sapling’s veins glowed green for a moment, before it grew taller and taller until it was half the height of its other fully grown siblings and grew three leaves. Bilbo couldn’t help but grin behind his mask. He stood up from the ground and put the vial in his pocket before removing his mask and gloves. He then addressed Gandalf, “So, what brings the Wandering Wizard back here after decades, hm? I don’t believe it is for a little social visit,” he put his hands on his hips. 

“Indeed, I must discuss something of importance with you that I believe would be of great interest to you.” Bilbo rolled his eyes before he motioned Gandalf to come inside with him. The wizard kindly put his hat and staff by the door when told so and followed the halfling to the dining area. Bilbo placed his hat and gloves on one side of the table before preparing the kettle to make tea. “Might I ask, what were you doing outside in your garden?” Gandalf asked. Bilbo smiled proudly as one would when asked about their accomplished work. 

“Out of boredom, I decided to test Kuanfi, a kind of fertilizer from the planet Ghigan, and see how it reacts to a plant of Middle-Earth.” He answered as he poured some hot tea in Gandalf’s cup before his. “And as I predicted, the reaction was positive,” he sat down across from him. He and the wizard took a moment to enjoy their tea, letting it soothe their minds and any tension in their bodies. It was one of the many things that Bilbo loved about the Shire. There was nowhere else he would find tea that completely calms him such as this. They talked about this and that, catching up like old friends would. After another sip of his tea, Bilbo finally asked, “As much as I enjoy your company after so many years Gandalf, what is it that you must talk to me about?” Gandalf smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes that made Bilbo momentarily fear what he will ask of him. “I’m looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Bilbo frowned in contemplation. He has already built a reputation for himself among the hobbits. He’s no more that mysterious Baggins who vanishes every now and then, but a proper gentlehobbit. Going on an adventure will definitely harm his respectability. “Unfortunately, I’m not quite in the place to do such a thing. Why not ask one of the Tooks?” Gandalf shook his head. “This quest will require a certain...set of skills,” the halfling paused in drinking from his cup and set it back down on the table. He folded his hands together and his expression became more serious. “Then in that case, what does this quest entail?” The wizard began explaining. “You must join a band of dwarves to journey to the East to reclaim their homeland from a dragon. They-“ he stopped when Bilbo raised a hand. “I will have to stop you there, Gandalf. This band of dwarves don’t happen to be lead by Thorin, Son of Thrain, would it?” 

He asked already fearing the answer. “Yes, they would,” the halfling sighed and a scowl formed on his face. “I’m sorry, I truly am, but I won’t be joining this ‘adventure’ of yours. I suggest that you find someone else,” he took a long sip of his tea. Gandalf gave him an incredulous look. “Unless you suspect other worldly beings are involved, time itself is at risk, or both, then it’s none of my business.” Bilbo explained with nonchalance that was uncharacteristic of him, as he put his cup down. “And why this sudden declaration?” Gandalf pushed. Bilbo rolled his eyes as he sighed.

“Why do you think ‘The Great Saruman the White’ doesn’t like me? Because I’m not of this world so according to him, I shouldn’t concern myself with anything that happens here,” though he made it his reason to refuse the offer, there was still a hint of frustration in his tone. The wizard furrowed his eyebrows with a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t recall a time you have followed his words. In fact, you do not follow much rules whenever there is someone in need. You follow what you believe is right, which is to always help in whatever way you can.” Bilbo turned his gaze to his tea, staring at his reflection in the liquid. “So I believe that you have a deeper reason to not help Thorin Oakenshield.” At last, the halfling relented and looked at Gandalf straight in the eye. “Because it was his family’s fault in the first place, why Smaug even came. I warned Thror of what his greed would summon, and he _never_ listened,” he said through gritted teeth. 

He remembered the first time he came to Erebor. He was tracking down a Zygon prisoner that escaped the custody of the Shadow Proclamation. It turned out he was hiding somewhere in the kingdom and after much convincing, he got King Thror and his son to help him in the search. When they finally caught the alien and the Shadow Proclamation finally arrived to collect him, Bilbo addressed his next concern to Thror, which was his gold. He understands how incredibly valuable such wealth is to the dwarves, but he has heard of gold sickness, and how much ruin it can bring to one’s mentality and the well-being of those around them. The gold that Bilbo had a glimpse of in the chambers below were almost overflowing, that it worried him. When he told Thror about it, he was met with a defensive response. The king dismissed the possibility of falling into madness, saying that he is mighty and should not be underestimated, and that it is not Bilbo’s place to tell him this. 

Which sparked an argument between them that evolved into a shouting match that Thrain had to calm them both, before Thror will start drawing his sword. Bilbo left with a huff and never came back. “We hated each other’s guts after that. I had no desire to visit that place again, unless I wanted to be in chains the next time I talk to that stubborn king,” he downed the rest of his tea. “Even then, you still would not turn away from doing the right thing.” Gandalf spoke fondly. “The day Smaug took Erebor, in their most desperate hour, they called you.” Bilbo poured himself some more tea, trying to pay no attention to the wizard’s words. “And you answered,” he put the tea pot down with a bit more force than necessary. 

Thror and Thrain were trapped in the mountain. They ran through every stony hallway in their attempt to avoid the dragon and to find a way out. Bilbo arrived just in time and they both got in his TARDIS. At that time, the halfling was very furious but he didn’t yell, instead he lectured them with cold hearted words that made the rulers of the greatest dwarf kingdom in Middle-Earth, bow their heads in shame. It was then that they realized how easily one can overlook the fact that Bilbo may be a hobbit from the quiet, peaceful Shire, but within, he is still a time lord who has lived for a thousand years, who has seen the birth of the universe and the way it all ends, who has witnessed entire civilizations and empires rise and fall, who has the power to bend the rules of existence itself. 

Bilbo hated invoking his wrath but it seemed to be the only way to convince certain pigheaded people to see reason. And it was worth it, he thought as he watched Thror’s eyes that were clouded by gold lust, clear and the horror of what he had brought upon his people dawn in his mind. Bilbo told them to not speak of his assistance to anyone, not even Thorin. That day was a major event in history, a _fixed_ event. Helping them escape was the least that he can do ‘cause if he involved himself more, all of time will collapse. He landed outside the mountain and didn’t even glance in their direction as they walked out of his TARDIS. 

“During the Battle of Azanulbizar, once again they asked for your aid and you came.” _’But I couldn’t save them.’_ Bilbo thought as the familiar pang of guilt stabbed his heart. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

_Thrain was pushed to the ground with the Pale Orc towering over him. He tried to reach for his sword when Azog stepped on his wrist, eliciting a cry of pain from the fallen dwarf. He brought out a dagger with a terrible grin as he eyed the ring on Thrain’s finger. But before he can bend down, he let out a roar when there was a sudden loud, high-pitched buzzing noise. He reeled back, dropping the dagger as he did so and clutching his ears. Thrain couldn’t hear anything but ringing when Bilbo appeared by his side, mouthing words as he helped him up. The dwarf was still a little disoriented when he spotted an orc sneaking up behind Bilbo with a sword raised._

_He quickly pushed his friend aside and blocked the blow. But was not quick enough to block the orc’s stab to his stomach. Time seemed to slow as he fell to the ground. The ringing seemed to subside somewhat when he heard a pained cry of “NO!!” and the orc’s head was sliced off. His vision was starting to blur but he felt Bilbo grab his arm and watched the interior of the TARDIS materialize around them. Now that the danger of the battle was gone, he summoned whatever strength he had left and got up. With the help of Bilbo, he hobbled his way to the medical bay of the TARDIS. “You’re going to be alright Thrain, you’re going to be alright,” Bilbo laid him down on the bed and was about to go grab some medical supplies but Thrain held his arm._

_“No,” he wheezed. “I’m afraid. That my time has come.” Bilbo removed his hand. “Steady, my friend. And it’s best that you save your breath. You’re not going to die, you hear me?” The halfling kept a calm facade but on the inside, he’s already panicking. His friend chuckled which devolved into a coughing fit. “Even a being with the power to bend the rules of existence cannot cheat death.” Bilbo shook his head, even as tears pricked his eyes. “Author…” The Author was Bilbo’s time lord name. “You must promise me something,” he placed something on his hand. Bilbo looked down and saw a ring. “Is this...” Thrain nodded as best he could. “The Last of the Seven Dwarf Rings of Power. Please, promise me you will protect it with your life,” he began coughing up blood._

_“Thrain…” the dwarf held his arm and looked at the halfling in the eye. “My son, and the dwarves of Erebor, look after them. Look after them.” Those were his last words as his vision blurred further and death finally took him. With the TARDIS invisible, Bilbo landed just right after the battle ended and gently placed Thrain’s body among the dead. He debated leaving the Ring with him but had to leave as quickly as possible when he saw other dwarves coming._

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bilbo blinked away the tears threatening to fall and he pulled his mind back to reality as Gandalf spoke again. “When Thorin lead the dwarves to the Blue Mountains, it was you who convinced the Thain to send them food and supplies to help them in their settlement.” Bilbo sighed. 

“Gandalf….how are you sure that this quest will be successful?”

“It certainly will be, with you on their side.”

“And how are you certain Thorin Oakenshield will even listen to my advice?” The wizard leaned back in his seat. “In all my time, knowing you Bilbo, you have proven to be very persuasive when needed,” the halfling shook his head. He refuses to join this adventure, not that he has a vendetta against Thorin or his family, but because he is afraid of what will happen once they reach the mountain. Smaug may be small compared to the other dragons of Morgoth back then, but a dragon is still a dragon. Who knows what kind of destruction will be brought if he is awakened once again.

Bilbo does not know the exact conclusion of this quest, only the possibilities. The future can be very flexible. There are events that must happen no matter what, and there are events that have varying outcomes. If Bilbo joins this adventure and plays his cards right, then it just might be successful. His fear now, is what if Thorin ends up being as stubborn as his grandfather? What if he falls into gold madness, as well? What if Bilbo is only wasting his time helping them and the worst outcome happens anyway? 

Thrain’s dying words echoed in his mind. He let out an exasperated sigh. _’Well, I can at least make sure they don’t kill themselves along the way.’_ He thought. And if Thorin wouldn’t listen, at least he tried. “I’ll think about it.” Gandalf smiled. “It’s settled then, I shall inform the others.” Bilbo’s head snapped up at those words. “Wait- Now hang on, I said I will be thinking about it! I didn’t say- wait! Gandalf!” The wizard was making his way to the door. “I believe it’s best in helping you make your decision, if you were to meet the Company in person. You will be hosting them, this supper,” he picked up his hat and staff. “Wha- but I-“ Bilbo threw his hands up. “Fine! But at least tell me how many I’m expecting.” 

“You’ll be expecting about thirteen of them.” Gandalf replied. Bilbo suddenly remembered something important and tugged on the wizard’s sleeve. “Gandalf, please don’t tell any of them, not even Thorin, that I happened to be not from around here and that I’m a time-traveller. This is a major event in history. There are many outcomes that can happen but all I can do really, is to give a little nudge here and there.” Gandalf assured him he won’t say anything and he walked out of the door saying “Farewell for now, Author!” before he closed it behind him. 

“I don’t call myself that, anymore,” the halfling muttered. He looked around his smial before he groaned and put his face in his hands. “What have I gotten myself into?” Unbeknownst to him, Gandalf imprinted a mark on the front door with his staff.


	3. Bilbo Baggins, at your service

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!! I’m not dead :)))
> 
> I’m sorry this took a little long, I got distracted by other fanfiction ideas *nervous laugh*
> 
> Also, I’m feeling sick today so
> 
> But anyways I hope this chapter was worth the wait!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit or Doctor Who. They belong to J.R.R. Tolkien and BBC.

Bilbo stood in front of the peculiar dark green door in one of Bag End’s halls. He caressed it, feeling the smooth wood and the very subtle vibrations. He rarely visits his TARDIS anymore because of his decision to remain a normal hobbit of the Shire. At least, as normal as one who is half time lord could be. He grasped the brass knob, turning it slowly and the door opened. Bilbo felt a smile creep to his face at the waves of pure joy he felt from his TARDIS in their telepathic connection, who was more than happy to have him back. The floor warmed beneath his feet and the humming sounded lighter.

The interior was huge that it could not possibly fit as a room inside a hobbit-hole, even a hobbit-hole like Bag End. The walls and ceiling took up a dome-like shape and is patterned with bronze-colored hexagons. The floor looks as if it was made of well polished wood that one could see their reflection. One side of the room looks like a study, complete with a wooden desk that has drawers. There was a red cushioned chair, a tall bookshelf beside the desk that is filled with books and old scrolls, and on the other side of the desk is another bookshelf that isn’t filled with books but touch-screen tablets, cubes and spheres that activate holograms. Just above the desk is a screen that shows a map of Middle-Earth but can change depending on the planet the TARDIS lands on.

On another side of the room, there is a large black chest beside a long gray table that is cluttered with wires, gears, antennas, devices and contraptions that were taken apart, various tools, and a single mallet. On a small table is a machine that brews tea, coffee, and other hot, soothing liquids and a tray with a tea pot and a few cups. 

In the center of the room facing the door, is a short glass staircase, patterned with golden Gallifreyan symbols, that lead up to a raised glass platform where the console of the TARDIS is. It was a column where in the lower part had laid out metal panels with buttons, switches, knobs, joysticks, and levers of different size, shape, and color. There was also a swivelling screen right above the panels that’s showing moving Gallifreyan symbols. The upper part of the column is a glass tube where inside is a large, curvy glass bulb that is glowing with streams of colors that slowly swirl around like a pot filled with soup that is carefully stirred. The colors change slowly, from a brilliant sky blue, to a bright green, to the shades of autumn leaves. There were also very small spots of white among the colors that look like the stars in the night sky. Beside the console is another set of stairs that connect to a door that leads deeper into the ship.

Bilbo climbed up to the platform and stroked the console affectionately. The time rotor glowed brighter. “I know, I know. I missed you too,” he whispered with a fond smile. There are times he indeed misses being in the presence of his ship. The TARDIS is not exactly a person he can talk to, but she is still some semblance of company ever since Bella and Bungo died. Bag End felt so empty and Bilbo has never felt so alone in a long time.

He pulled away to go up the stairs and into the long winding hallways. After a lot of turns, he came upon the door he was looking for. When he opened it, he looked around the kitchen with a thoughtful hum. “Right,” he pulled up his sleeves and rubbed his hands together. “A feast for thirteen dwarves and a wizard, who will all be arriving in a few hours. This shouldn’t be too hard.” Bilbo spent the rest of the day, cooking as many meals as possible to the best of his ability. He moved around the kitchen with such swiftness that one could not hope to follow. Yet also with such accuracy only possessed by those who cook for royalty. Before he knew it, he was finished.

Bilbo admired all the meals that were lined up on the long kitchen counter with his hands on his hips. His curly brown hair was damp with sweat and his clothes had a few soup and sauce stains and some flour on it. His chest heaved as he took in a breath with the satisfaction of a job well done. “Now, all I need to do is to set everything up and wait,” he was about to move to carry two plates of food to his dining table in Bag End, when he took a glance at his shirt and his nose wrinkled. “After I take a bath first.”

After a nice warm bath he then changed his clothes. He wore a white button-up shirt with brown suspenders and a gold-colored waistcoat. He took all the food to the dining table in his hobbit-hole and arranged the chairs to fit the thirteen dwarves (and one man-sized chair for Gandalf). It was soon time for supper when Bilbo heard his doorbell ring.

He smoothed down his shirt and put on his best charming smile before opening the door. Standing there, was a tall gruff-looking dwarf with a bald head and a great black beard. “Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf bowed without breaking eye-contact with Bilbo. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours,” he bowed as well. “Do come in. Please hang your cloak here,” he gestured to a row of pegs on the wall. “And leave your weapons here,” he gestured to a spot on the floor, just below the pegs. Dwalin was a little reluctant at removing his weapons, but still did as he was told and followed the halfling down the halls. “It seems to be a rather cold evening, isn’t it?” said Bilbo with a smile at the dwarf. “Still, everyone keeps saying it will rain soon but I doubt that.” Dwalin only grunted in response and does not seem to really care about what the halfling is saying. _’Not the talkative type, then…,’_ thought Bilbo.

When they arrived at the dining room, the dwarf’s eyes widened at the amount of food on the table. The delicious smell hit his nose and he could already feel his mouth water. “Help yourself with whatever you like.” Dwalin immediately sat down and took a big bite out of some roast beef. He hummed in satisfaction as he chewed. “Very good, this.” Bilbo smiled. “Why, thank you, Master Dwalin.” The doorbell rang again. “Don’t be afraid to eat as much as you like,” said Bilbo before he hurried over to the door. When he opened it, there was a white-haired dwarf who seemed more friendly. “Balin, at your service,” he bowed with a smile.

“Bilbo Baggins, at yours. Please, come in.” After putting down his cloak and weapons, Balin asked, “Am I late?” Bilbo reassured him, “No, just in time, actually.” Bilbo led him down the halls. “Will the others be coming soon?” asked the halfling. “Ah yes, I believe so. They wouldn’t miss this night for the world,” Balin replied with a smile. “Good, good. Sorry, I just tend to be a little particular about timing.” The dwarf didn’t get the chance to think about Bilbo’s words when they arrived at the dining room where Dwalin was chewing rather noisily. But when he saw Balin, he immediately swallowed his food and stood up with a laugh. Bilbo jumped a bit when they butted heads, but still smiled at the brothers’ little happy reunion (it really has been a long time since he’s interacted with dwarves). Then the doorbell rang again. Seeing as how the two dwarves are happily chatting and eating, the halfing quietly made his way to the door.

When he opened it, he was met with two young dwarves who are no doubt, brothers with identical grins that Bilbo is all too familiar with. He’s seen it particularly on a few Tooks and Brandybucks who are planning to wreak havoc with their mischief. But he didn’t live for hundreds of years in the Shire to not know how to wrangle in such younglings. “Fili,” said the blond haired one, “And Kili,” followed his brother, “At your service,” they bowed in unison. “You must be Mister Boggins!” said Kili with enthusiasm. “Mister _Baggins_ , actually.” Bilbo replied. The two were about to enter when the halfling stood in their way. “Before you come in, I would like it to be clear that I _do not_ tolerate any practical jokes of any kind inside my smial. Because I _will_ kick you out until you sincerely apologize and promise to behave. Do I make myself clear?” his tone was serious and vaguely threatening.

“Of course Mister Bo- Baggins, Fee and I would never think of doing such things,” said Kili with an all too innocent voice. Bilbo raised an eyebrow before deciding to let them in. "Nice place you got here. Did you build it yourself?" Fili asked. "No, it's been in the family for years- NO!" Bilbo yelled at Kili who had his foot raised, about to scrape off the mud on his boots on Belladonna's glory box. "That-" the halfling breathed in and out, "-is a valuable family possession, I would advise not to even touch it, thank you." Kili backed away. They happily joined Dwalin and Balin in the feast. The doorbell rang again and when the door opened, Bilbo barely avoided being toppled on by about eight dwarves who fell unceremoniously on the floor, on top of each other. They grumbled to each other and the halfling was debating with himself whether to help them or not as their predicament is rather amusing to him that he had to suppress his chuckle as one by one, they got up and introduced themselves. After the last dwarf dropped his weapons and joined the others, Gandalf entered. 

“Evening Gandalf, couldn’t bother to round up the whole company, instead of having them show up one by one, can you?” said Bilbo with evident annoyance in his tone, even as he took the wizard’s hat and staff to place them by the door on the opposite side of the dwarves’ things. Gandalf only chuckled, “You were still prepared for them, were you not?” Bilbo shook his head, wondering why he still follows what this wizard says. 

The smial was filled with loud, boisterous dwarves. They all were laughing in merriment as they threw food around and passed the ale. They then had a drinking contest that resulted in some belching that would make any hobbit suddenly uncomfortable with how improper it is. Luckily, Bilbo is no ordinary hobbit and has dealt with dwarves before. But with the booming laughter that erupted afterward, it is a wonder to the halfling how none of his neighbors have marched to his door to give him an earful about how late it is in the night. As Bilbo answered the needs of his guests, he would admit that he is still a little appalled by their table manners and many times have resisted the urge to tell them to eat their food properly like how a mother would scold her child.

As much as they’re having fun, they certainly have a lot of requests as well that have Bilbo running back and forth from his kitchen to the dining area. After pouring in yet another round of ale and wine, the halfling went to a quiet spot in one of the halls to lean his back against the wall and let out a long tired sigh. He wiped the sweat from his brow and not for the first time that day, contemplated why in the name of Yavanna did Gandalf drag him into this? He’s not even perfectly sure if he wants to go on this quest. 

He started pinching the bridge of his nose, wondering what he should do when the wizard found him. “Bilbo, what seems to be the matter?” he asked him. Bilbo just rolled his eyes at him. 

“Why? Why are they here, Gandalf?” asked Bilbo despairingly.

“As I said before, it would do you good if you were to meet the company in person.”

“But did it really have to be in my own smial?”

“Why, it is the perfect place for their merry gathering. Isn’t it what others say that Bag End is where one can experience the utmost hobbit hospitality?”

The halfling sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time that night. He was about to say something biting when a young, shy dwarf, (Ori?) came up to him and asked, “Excuse me, I’m sorry to interrupt but what should I do with my plate?” Before Bilbo can answer however, Fili appeared and took the plate from him. To the halfling’s horror, he threw it to his brother who then threw it behind him to the kitchen. “N-Now, I can wash the dishes on my own just fine! YOU DON’T NEED TO DO THAT!” he panickedly shouted when they started throwing around Belladonna’s west farthing crockery. Bilbo tried to catch the flying dishes before any of the other dwarves could, but only to keep missing the entire time. It was like watching a little child trying to get his favorite toy back from the bullies who kept passing it to each other, giggling. Only, the dwarves may end up with an angry time lord if they didn’t stop.

The frustration was boiling up inside him that the halfling was about to unleash his wrath when something else caught his attention. He heard his utensils being pounded on the table. “Can you not do that?! You’ll blunt them!” The dwarves only started singing a song to mock him. 

_Blunt the knives, bend the forks  
Smash the bottles and burn the corks  
Chip the glasses and crack the plates  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

_Cut the cloth and tread on the fat  
Leave the bones on the bedroom mat  
Pour the milk on the pantry floor  
Splash the wine on every door  
Dump the crocks in a boiling bowl  
Pound them up with a thumping pole  
When you’ve finished, if any are whole  
Send them down the hall to roll  
That’s what Bilbo Baggins hates!_

The lyrics only served to make Bilbo more angry than he already was. Like a volcano that finally erupted, he yelled 

“ENOUGH!” 

Bag End became dead silent. Everyone halted what they were doing. There was a plate however, that was still thrown. It sailed above Bilbo’s head, yet he caught it in his hand without looking. With blazing eyes and hands shaking from rage, he said in a low voice that all the dwarves still heard, “You are all in MY home. I am your host. Therefore, my word is to be followed here, not something to be made a mockery of. I cooked and served for all of you. All I ask for is a little respect.” The company bowed their heads, not wanting to meet the halfling’s eyes.

A heavy knock on the front door broke the tense atmosphere. Bilbo inhaled through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. He was still angry but was calm enough to greet his new guest. He threw the plate back at a startled Fili and stomped towards the door, followed shortly by Gandalf. The dwarves were still in shock at Bilbo’s change of mood from a cheerful, kind gentlehobbit to one filled with enough rage to shake them to the core like an earthquake. Soon enough, they hurried to the front door, not knowing how their king would handle their currently fuming host.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, what do you guys think? Will Bilbo blow a fuse again with Thorin? Or will...different kind of sparks fly? ;))
> 
> (Who am I kidding? Of course Bilbo will blow a fuse again)


End file.
